


I Don't Care What You Think as Long as it's About Me

by a_kiss_inthe_rain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, M/M, Mechanic Sam Winchester, Singer Dean Winchester, Tattoo Artist Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5762725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_kiss_inthe_rain/pseuds/a_kiss_inthe_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a tattoo artists, Dean is a singer in a club, Sam is a mechanic, and Gabriel is an old friend. Kinda Fall Out Boy themed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let the Good Times Roll

Gabriel took a deep breath as he walked into the tattoo parlor, The Canvas. He couldn't believe he was actually going to go through with this. His teeth hooked on his tongue piercing; he had four piercings in total, one on his tongue, a nipple piercing, and two eyebrow piercings. Finally, after all but forcing himself, he walked inside the building. As soon as the glass door opened, a little bell chimed.  
There were three stations inside the parlor, each one clean and organized. A register on a counter (which had numerous examples of each artist's work) was about a yard from the door. A line of metal chairs lined part of the wall, underneath a large window. Beside the chairs were two tables that had magazines with tattoo ideas and average prices. The lights weren't harsh on the eyes, like Gabriel had expected, yet still lit the place. The tiled floors and walls were clean, aside from certifications and more examples of work.  
A man with neon green hair and cobalt eyes poked his head out of a back room. He saw Gabriel up front and smiled, his plush lips spreading over pearly teeth, and walked out into the main area. He was about three inches taller than Gabriel and rather muscular. "Welcome to The Canvas, I'm Cas," he introduced himself in a gravelly voice. "Do you have an appointment with anyone?" He strode over to the counter and looked through a schedule. He wore black skinny jeans, with combat boots that clicked on the floor every time he moved his feet, and a black sweater with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. He had a lip piercing and gauges in his ears.  
"Yes, I set one up with you over the phone yesterday," Gabriel mumbled. He was beginning to second-guess this, especially with the tattoo he had in mind. "Gabriel Singer, you told me to be here at four." His fingers were fiddling with a piece of paper in his pocket that had the words written on it. He pushed his red bangs away from his forehead, the rest of his dirty-blond hair stopping just above his shoulders as he waited for Cas to find him on the schedule.  
Cas's finger landed on the name and time. "Ah, yes, you said you had an idea of your own. Do you have a picture, or drawing?" He leaned on the wooden counter-top, tattooed forearms crossing to form a mural on his arms. Among the art on his skin, Gabriel could point out a few lyrics and band logos.  
The man with whiskey-colored eyes nodded and pulled the folded piece of paper out of the pocket of his grey, torn-up skinny jeans. A blush was crossing his normally pale cheeks, as he averted those whiskey eyes. He tugged on the hem of his sleeveless Led Zeppelin shirt. He scuffed the toe of his black high-top on the tiled floor, his heart hammering in his chest. "Do you think you'll be able to do that?" he asked after a moment of silence.  
"Yes, and you want it in this print style?" Cas asked, his cobalt eyes boring into Gabriel, with one eyebrow raised. The hand writing on the paper was... well, not what he expected this kind of guy's hand writing to look like. It was almost feminine, yet still looked as though it was held by a strong hand. The man before him looked more like the kind of guy that avoids the gym, yet still manages to remain fit; like the kind that doesn't care what he eats, but can be as healthy as can be.  
Gabriel's head whipped up quickly, and he barked out a sudden 'yes!', much to the artist's surprise. He took a breath and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Sorry, I meant yes," he said in a much calmer voice.  
Cas had Gabriel fill out the paper work, and show his ID. After writing down the driver's license number on the form, the green-haired man led Gabriel back to one of the stations. A license with the name 'Castiel Novak' was displayed above a mirror with the tools on a counter below, with cabinets below. Cas placed the paper on the surface and copied it onto the stencil, while Gabriel kicked back in the chair.  
"Where are you wanting the tattoo?" he asked as he finished up the stenciling process.  
"On my forearm, along the inside." Gabriel was watching Cas warily. He had gotten tattoos in the past, but he had never gone here for any.  
Cas placed the stencil along the inside of his arm, it reached from about an inch away from his elbow to two inches away from his wrist. "Is this alright?" he asked, looking up at Gabriel to see his expression.  
The man with the red bangs nodded, relaxing as much as he could. He was sure that the artist knew what he was doing, he even had an exact copy of the tattoo he wanted. Gabriel saw Cas's eyes on the tattoos on his right arm; a Fall Out Boy logo, a pair of wings that took up most of his forearm done in a golden ink, 'Poisoned Youth' scrawled on his bicep in calligraphy, and a semicolon with an incomplete heart on his wrist. "Yeah," he stated anxiously, "I usually go to this guy over on the east side of town, but the shop he worked at closed down. One of my friends said that he comes here."  
"Oh, who's your friend?" Cas asked as he prepared the needle and ink. Gabriel had requested on the form that it be emerald ink.  
"Dean. Dean Winchester, he even recommended you. Said that you were the best artist he'd ever gone to, and that you had done the tattoo he got for his mother," Gabriel explained. He winced slightly as the tattoo gun started to hum and Cas sat on a stool beside him. He couldn't stand the noise that tattoo guns made, but he fucking loved getting ink.  
"Ah, Dean. He's one of my favorite customers, always polite and interesting to talk to." Castiel began to form the words on pale skin, careful not to break from the unique print. He stopped to dab off the excess ink, then continued. "How is he? Last he was in, he was talking about putting in an application at a club." He moved on to the second letter.  
"Actually, he's doing a gig at this club called Brickyard. His first gig there, so he's nervous as hell," Gabriel stated as he watched the words form on his skin. He was impressed so far, especially with how quickly Cas was. He looked up at the tattoo artist with a crooked grin on his lips. "You should totally go, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to see you there."  
Cas looked back up at Gabriel quizzically with an eyebrow raised again. "Oh? What makes you say that?" he asked before returning to the tattoo. He had finished four of the nine words, and it looked good. The emerald was a stark contrast with the porcelain-like skin, causing the tattoo to stand out brilliantly.  
Gabriel chuckled, knowing Dean would kill him if he found out. But, then again, that is why the Winchester boys called him the Trickster; he had enjoyed playing pranks on his friends since they were children. "Well, Dean-o might have let slip that he thought a certain tattoo artist," he looked at Cas, "This is where you enter. Anyway, he might have accidentally said that he thought an artist with neon green hair and deep blue eyes was sexy as hell. And that he wouldn't mind getting to know you a lot, and I mean ~a lot~ better." The grin on his face was one that made Cas smile too, without being able to help it.  
A blush had crept onto the slightly taller man's face, causing him to be even more intent on the tattoo. He was touching up each word, each individual letter, to make it last even longer. The way he was using the ink, it wouldn't fade for a very long time. He dabbed away the last of the remaining ink and turned back to the station's counter; he grabbed the sanitary wipe and bandages and swiveled around to face Gabriel again. His cheeks were almost like a lighter shade of his hair as he cleaned the red and swollen skin, placing bandages over the area. "Maybe I'll have to go and watch his performance," Cas finally said. "Oh, and you'll need to keep bandages on the area for about a week, depending on your healing factors; and, you'll need to clean it every night with warm soap and water. I usually recommend to people that they use baby oil to keep the ink from fading as fast, so you might want to do that."  
Gabriel was nodding along as he stood up and stretched. "Thanks, very much, Cas. If you really want to go to Brickyard, I can take you. I know where it is, and this way I can see Dean's face when he sees you're there," he offered. They stopped at the front counter and Cas rang him up; Gabriel pulled out his wallet, and handed him seven twenties. He got fifteen dollars back, and shoved those into the trifold.  
Cas looked over at the analogue clock on the wall. It was about four minutes before six, when the store closed. He hadn't realized how long he'd been working on Gabriel's tattoo. "Let me check with Balthy, to see if he'll be fine closing by himself," he answered before ducking into the backroom.  
The shorter man waited, toying with a strip of red hair with one finger before pushing it back with the dirty blond hair that was tucked behind his ear. He hooked the barbell in his tongue on his teeth again as he waited. He tapped the toe of his high top on the floor to a tune in his head.  
Cas came back out to the front with a denim jacket in his hand and a beanie on his head. Some of the lime green hair still poked out, which contrasted against the gray hat. "Let's head out," he said.


	2. Bend and Break

Brickyard was one of the nicest clubs in Wichita, Kansas. As the name might hint, the walls were a dark red brick, with a sleek oak bar. The club was surprisingly clean; the tables and booths were wiped down frequently, the floors were swept, the air wasn't heavy with smoke, and the bathrooms were clean. The lights flickered every now and then, along with the neon that hung in the windows. The stage was an actual stage, with an amp, speakers, a microphone and a stool for performers to sit on. Brickyard was known for being one of the only clubs in Wichita that had live music. The drinks varied from beer to martinis to whiskey to mixers. Two brothers sat at a small table next to the stage, the older with a glass of whiskey and the younger with Jager.  
"Sam, I don't know if I can do this," Dean said as he and his brother, Sam, sat at one of the small tables at the Brickyard. Dean Winchester was a good 6'1" tall with toned muscles from the years he and Sam had worked with their adopted father, Bobby Singer, as mechanics. He had tattoos that covered his arms and neck, with a nose piercing that his 'real' father, John, had damn near beat his ass over. His blond hair was short shorn, with the tips dyed a dark blue. As of right now, the 36 year old was sweating through his skin-tight AC/DC shirt; the fabric clung to his chiseled torso, and he pulled it away with one calloused hand. His indigo jeans hung low on his hips, the hem of the legs resting just above black biker boots that gleamed in the dim lighting. His apple green eyes were scanning the inhabitants of the bar as he looked for Gabriel.  
Sam smiled and rested a large hand on his older brother's shoulder. "Dean, you'll be fine. The owner wouldn't have hired you if he didn't think you sounded good," he assured Dean. Sam Winchester stood at a whopping 6'4" and was built like a bull. More times than not, his tattoos rippled over the sleek muscles on his arms, making the serpent around his right arm seem almost like a real one. His shoulder-length brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail right now, revealing the earrings lining the cartilage of his ears. The young man was dressed in dark gray bootcut jeans with boots much like his brothers, and a red and white checkered flannel with the sleeves rolled past his elbows. "And even if you do flop, most of these people are shitfaced as is."  
Dean threw back his shot of whiskey, then gestured to the waitress for another. "Thanks, that makes me feel so much better," he answered sarcastically. When his glass was refilled he went to throw it back too, when Sam stopped him. He gave his younger brother a 'what-the-hell' glare.  
"You don't need to be doing your first gig smashed, man," Sam answered the silent question. "Afterward, we'll get as drunk as you want." Sam looked around, when he heard the door open, and smiled as Gabriel walked in with a man he had never seen before. "Looks like Gabe brought company."  
The blonde man looked over where his brother was and turned as red as the other man's shirt. Was that Cas? As in the tattoo artist he had told Gabriel about, Cas? The one he had told his best friend since third grade, that he thought was sexy as all fuck? Suddenly, he could't wait to either get on the stage or wrap his hands around the man's throat.  
The owner of the bar, a short man with a Scottish accent, walked onto the stage as the performer walked off. His short black hair and beard made him look devilish, along with his suit. "Ladies and gents, our next lad on stage tonight is a first timer here. Give it up for Dean Winchester!" he introduced Dean, as the blond man sauntered into the spotlight, with a guitar in hand.  
Dean hooked up his electric guitar to the amp quickly, and tuned it one last time before looking up at the audience. He noted that Gabriel and Cas had taken seats at his and Sam's table. He smiled nervously as the last of the applause fell silent. His tongue darted out and moistened his lips as he took a breath and began to play. The old pick between his fingers flew across the chords, the music filling the atmosphere.  
Sam turned to Gabriel. "So, who's the new guy?" he whispered as they listened to Dean's performance. He couldn't help but admit that the green-haired man was attractive, as he looked between Gabriel and the stranger.  
"He's Cas, Dean's tattoo artist. I went and got some ink done, and decided to invite him along," Gabriel explained as he stole Sam's Jager. He drank the sweet liquor slowly before placing the glass on the table in front of the long haired man. He reached up and yanked the ponytail playfully, drawing Sam's attention from Cas. "Hey, what's next? Bows and nail polish?" he joked.  
Sam frowned as he noticed his empty glass, then looked back at Gabriel. "Weren't you the one that went through a nail polish, eye liner, and lipstick phase?" he cajoled. He had noticed that Gabriel still did occasionally wear eyeliner, but at least he wasn't wearing that gaudy black lipstick still.  
Gabriel glared at the younger, yet extremely taller man. "So? It's not like I'm the only one that's done something embarrassing, right Sammy?" The frown turned to a smirk as one of the shorter man's eyebrows lifted.  
Cas, meanwhile was entranced in Dean's singing and guitar skills. He had no clue that the man he had tattooed for years was this talented, or that his usually gruff voice could be so melodic and smooth. He caught himself humming along and tapping his boot during some of the songs, the bickering between the two men beside him mere background noise he tuned out. He even ordered an appletini and sipped on it as his longtime customer made eye contact with him every few seconds.  
Dean took a deep breath, noting that he had made it through most of his performance. He only had enough time for one more song, and decided to make it a memorable one. He began to strum the strings quickly. "I'm gonna make it bend and break, so say a prayer and let the good times roll. In case God doesn't shoooow." His voice was easy on the ears, enjoyable in it's smooth alto tone.  
The man with neon green hair was singing along now, not just humming. "And I want the words to make things right."  
"But it's the wrongs that make the words come to life," Dean was dancing in his stool now as the beat began to pick up, green eyes locked on Cas. He figured the man with cobalt eyes already knew, might as well make it obvious. He winked, looking directly as Cas as he did so, and belted out the lyrics. "One night and one more time, thanks for the memories even if they weren't so great! He tastes like you, only sweeter!"  
Gabriel bought Sam another Jager, laughing when he decided to lick a stray drop off of the corner of his mouth. His whiskey-colored eyes slid closed with how hard he was laughing as Sam's startled expression. Underneath the joking exterior, he was deeply enjoying the taste of the sweet liquor and Sam Winchester. He tasted like spice, and Axe Phoenix, with a hint of mint. He thought about how he'd like to taste Sam all over and damn near choked, cheeks flushing as he looked into hazel eyes, only to see the same expression staring back at him.  
Sam's thoughts were racing as fear filled his gut; he had to know, Gabriel had to know that he liked him. Why else would he ~lick~ him? Yeah, Gabe liked to prank him and mess with him, but he'd never done anything like that before. He stood abruptly and excused himself, saying he had to go to the bathroom.  
Dean finished up the song, with applause erupting from the audience. He grinned and waved at the people, before unhooking his guitar and putting it back in the case and jumping off of the stage. He sat at the table, next to Cas, and smiled at him. "I didn't know you come here," he said, trying to play it cool.  
"I don't, Gabriel here... talked me into coming along," he hinted heavily.  
Dean chuckled and scooted closer to the cobalt eyes that had him entranced. He didn't even notice when Gabriel left them, walking towards the restroom.


	3. You And I Were Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gabriel makes his move.

Gabriel walked into the bathroom, surprised at how clean it was. There were four stalls, all of the doors intact, and five urinals. One of the stall doors was locked, he knew Sam was in there. The short man ran his hands through his hair, red bangs mixing with tumbleweed colored hair. He took a deep breath and prepared himself to speak, when Sam opened the stall door and walked right into him. Gabriel's hand fisted in the plaid fabric as he fell, causing the buttons to pop off and the shirt to fall open.  
Sam crashed down on top of Gabriel, holding the blond's head to his exposed chest to keep it from banging on the tiles. His face turned a bright pink as he realized what position he had just put himself in. Right now the younger Winchester regretted putting his hair back, wishing that it was hiding his face right now. Even through all of this, he was still cradling Gabriel's head, their legs tangled and the older man's hands on his sides. The tall man goes to stand, but finds himself unable to.  
Gabriel's hands had found their way to Sam's hips, and he was digging his fingers into the soft flesh there to keep him close. He was breathing in the scent of Sam, like Old Spice and Axe. God, those muscles were pressed against his face, he could hear the sexy man's pulse. If Gabriel was going to do it, it had to be now; he crushed his lips against softer ones, tongue tracing them.  
Sam's pulse jumped, but he returned the kiss with vigor. Fuck, he had wanted to do that for so long, he couldn't remember when he hadn't. His hands roamed down Gabriel's back, holding him close. He sat them both up, the older man in his lap with a hand fisted in dark hair as they kissed feverishly. Sam pulled Gabriel's shirt up and over his head, revealing his soft body, and pulled away to take in the view. God, he was sexy as hell; he wasn't necessarily muscled, but what there was was noticeable, and contrasted the belly beautifully. Sam ran his fingers over the soft, tender skin of a small nipple, then the next.  
Gabriel gasped, head tossed back, and pushed the flannel shirt from broad shoulders. He noticed how the ripped male's nipples were a slightly darker shade of brown than his own. He bit down on the muscle conjoining neck and shoulder, drawing a hiss from Sam. He ground down on the obvious bulge beneath his ass, the sound of denim rubbing on denim filling the air, along with pants and gasps.  
Sam's ponytail was long forgotten, as he found Gabe's hands in his hair again; fuck, that turned him on so much, almost more than the actual kissing. He rubbed his erection on the blond's ass, capturing his earlobe in his mouth and sucking slowly. His own hands worked their way down a supple belly, to the waistband of skinny jeans, then the button. Sam's fingers fumbled with the fly as he yanked down the jeans off of Gabriel.  
Someone walked in, turned around and walked out.  
Sam proceeded to toss Gabriel's pants in the same area as their shirts, then nibbled and mouthed on a surprisingly prominent collar bone. He pawed at Gabriel's round, firm ass through black briefs, a growl forming in his throat and vibrating through the other man's collar bone.  
Gabriel was panting and rutting on Sam's abs, his cock already leaking from all the excitement. He couldn't believe how good those muscles felt on his erection, but he wanted more. His arm scraped along Sam's jeans as he tried to tug them past his thighs, causing him to grimace and gasp in pain. Nonetheless, he tugged the denim fabric down far enough to see that Sammy boy wasn't wearing any underwear. His mouth watered as a larger-than-average cock sprung out of the waistband. Gabriel looked up at Sam with his whiskey eyes, the pupils large with arousal and lust; and, he didn't break eye contact as he went down, lips attaching to flaming hot skin. He couldn't believe how good Sam's precome tasted on his tongue, salty yet sweet. He took the head into his wet, hot mouth, sucking softly.  
The younger Winchester grunted in frustration, whining for more. His hands were roaming everywhere: soft, blond hair and red streaks, heated skin, plush lips. He gently nudged deeper into Gabriel's hotter-than-hell mouth, hips jerking slightly at the sensations. He humped in small circles, fucking the soft, warm mouth wrapped around his cock, begging for more, more, more.  
Gabriel pulled off with a soft pop, and crawled into Sam's lap, letting the younger man pull off his underwear and toss them aside. He rubbed his bare ass on the throbbing cock, slowly taking it a little bit at a time. The head finally made it in the rim after what felt like an eternity, Gabriel on the edge of pain-bliss; he hadn't expected him to be as thick as he was. He ground down onto Sam, working in the shaft slowly. He finally hit the base, ass burning and mouth dry as he gasped. He latched his cracking lips onto plush, soft ones; he didn't want to ever stop kissing, their breath mingling as Sam took control.  
Sam's hands were sliding up and down Gabriel's thighs before landing on his hips, fingers digging in. He was sure there would be bruises, but he couldn't care less right now. He was fucking the man he had wanted for so long, and it felt so fucking good. He slammed their hips together, the sound of skin slapping skin almost louder than their moans. Their tongues were tangling together, battling for dominance, as Sam's cock slid in and out of Gabriel's tight, hot asshole. He groaned as the older man tugged his hair and ground on him.  
Another person walked in and stood in shock for a few seconds before all but sprinting out of the restroom with a scream.  
Gabriel chuckled and squeezed his lower muscles around Sam, causing his hips to stutter. "Might wanna finish soon, Sammy boy," he whispered in the taller man's ear as he worked his hips. He was swiveling his hips in small, tight circles to tease Sam, and it was working.  
"C'mon, Gabe, please let me just," he whimpered against Gabriel's jaw, "let me fuck you hard."  
Goosebumps rose on Gabriel's flesh as his heart hammered and he nodded. His head rolled back on his surprisingly strong shoulders as Sam fucked into him.  
The younger Winchester was almost howling now as he drove in and out of the blond's ass, sweat dripping off of him. His brown hair fell around his face, tickling Gabriel's nose as he licked Sam's jaw. He didn't think he could take anymore as his hips stuttered one last time and he spilled his cum in Gabriel. He pressed his slick forehead to the other man's, hand fumbling shakily to his cock and jerking it slowly.  
Gabriel was moaning. Loudly. And he was fucking Sam's fist, precome dribbling onto his fingers as he edged closer to finishing. God, he could feel Sam slipping out of him and his cum leaking out of his ass. He whined and his hips quickened as his seed splurted out, onto Sam's chest and hand. Gabriel felt boneless as he collapsed against Sam.  
They sat like that for a few minutes, before Sam helped them both stand and cleaned them off. He looked Gabriel up and down, and gathered their clothes so they could dress. Before they left the bathroom, Sam stopped Gabriel with a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Gabe," he started.  
Gabriel looked up at him, whiskey eyes still clouded from what they had done. "Yeah, Sammy?" he cooed. He reached out for the towering man's hand, fingers brushing together before entwining.  
"Was that... Are we a thing now?" Sam whispered. He was afraid that it was too good to be true, that Gabriel had just wanted a fuck. His cheeks were starting to heat up as he felt like he was going to cry, hazel eyes beginning to water.  
Gabriel dropped his hand, instead taking his face in those warm palms. "Don't doubt it for a second, kiddo," he reassured him before latching their lips together.


	4. I'd Burn the City Down

Dean was sitting next to Cas at the table beside the stage, head in his hands as he groaned. He had taken a couple (by which he'd mean six or seven) shots of whiskey since he had gone to the restroom to see what was taking Sam and Gabe so long. And, by God did he regret it. He slammed back another shot, looking over at Cas's cobalt eyes with his own apple green ones, and sighed. "Man, I walk in there to see if they're alright, and," he shudders, "they're on the floor fucking each other's brains out." The somewhat-traumatized man gestured the waitress over with a raised finger, and she poured him another glass. His hands were tangled in his blond hair, fingers toying with the blue tips. Cas was laughing at Dean right now; it was hilarious to him how Dean was reacting to his brother and best friend doing the nasty. He rested his head on the Winchester's shoulder, green hair tickling his chin. The tattoo artist was teething at his lip piercing as he contemplated making a move of his own. With a deep breath, he looked up at Dean with a mischievous smile on his soft, pink lips. "Maybe you need something to take your mind off of it?" he suggested with a wink, long eyelashes catching Dean's eye. Dean looked shocked to say the least, with both brows raised and his dazzling eyes wide. He was just about to ask what the other man meant when Sam and Gabriel took their seats at the table, both looking disheveled and flushed. His eyes narrowed at the pair, plush lips curled in almost a snarl. Gabriel's expression was one of surprise, even through the euphoria. "What's up, Dean-o?" he asked. His voice was guttural, as though he had just been screaming seconds before. Which he had been. "You know damn well what's up, bitch," Dean snarled. He wasn't angry that they'd finally made their moves, it was about damn time; what he was furious about was that he had walked in on it. "I fucking saw you two plowing each other in the bathroom!" He certainly wasn't proud about the fact that he had screamed when he saw the scene in the restroom, or that he had run from the room as fast as he could. His hand that was resting on the table was suddenly found by a much softer, yet astoundingly strong one. He looked over at Cas, an expression of amusement and understanding on his face. "Dean, you shouldn't be angry. You were the one that had gone to find them, after all," Cas said in a gentle tone. Even with a voice as gruff as his, it still soothed the raging Winchester. The royal blue eyes turned to the rest of the group, and soft lips turned up in a smile. "So, what's the plan now?" Sam shrugged and waved a waitress over. "Everyone's gonna get wasted," he suggested, then turned so that he could talk to the blonde with a smile. "I'll take a Jager bomb." Gabriel took a second to contemplate what he'd be drinking that evening. "I'll take a chocolate kiss martini, with a sprig of mint in it," he finally ordered. The thoroughly fucked man had a sweet tooth that could put any sugar-high child to shame. He looked up with a slight frown when the woman said that they didn't serve those. "Well, I guess I'll take a Master P." The woman nodded to assure him that they actually did have that on the menu, and looked over to Cas and Dean. "Whiskey still?" Cas shook his head and held up his empty martini glass. He had only finished one drink the entire time he had been at the bar, and was ready to drown himself in liquor with his newfound group of friends. "I'll take another appletini, please," he said with a polite smile. His hand was still linked with Dean's, his skin feeling like it was on fire where it made contact with the blond's. Dean noticed the waitress's eyes on Cas, and suddenly felt very possessive. He leaned over and whispered into the ear with the pink gauge, warm lips brushing the soft skin there. "You realize she's checking you out, right?" His breath was hot, causing Cas's skin to prickle and shivers to wrack his spine. "What should we do about that?" A blush was creeping up on pallid cheeks, as Cas turned to Dean, his lips collided with big, pink ones. His azure eyes widened, then slid shut as he melted into the kiss. God, it was hot. He pulled away, not wanting to, and smiled shyly. "Dean, order something," Cas whispered, "You're making the poor lady wait." Dean looked back over at the waitress with a lazy grin, to see that she was frowning. "Yeah, I'll take another whiskey," he slurred out slowly. Yeah, he was starting to feel the buzz after... well, he hadn't exactly kept count. He was glad when the woman left, and he turned back to the group to see Sam grinning knowingly and Gabriel smirking because he (in his mind) made this happen. The group sat and drank, getting to know each other for about an hour before Cas finished his seventh appletini and stretched. He looked around at his friends, a small smile on his face when his eyes landed on gem-like orbs that were locked on him. "Hey, I should probably go back to the shop to get my car before I get completely plastered," Cas said as he stood. Dean stood with him, keys already in his hand. "I'll drive you there," he offered as his arm snaked around Cas's waist. His fingers were on a small strip of skin between the black sweater and jeans, causing his cheeks to heat up. Sam's mouth opened in an 'o' shape and opened his arms wide in a 'what the fuck' gesture. "Dude, we rode here together," he said. Dean pointed at his brother, then at Gabriel. "You can ride with your boyfriend." He walked across the crowded floor, still holding the neon green-haired man by the waist. The pair stumbled through the parking lot to a black, four door '67 Chevy Impala; Cas was very impressed, the car was almost as attractive as the man holding him. "Nice ride," Cas said as he slid into the passenger seat. He inhaled deeply, smelling the leather interior and Dean's cologne. He smiled and turned to see the blond smirking at him. "What?" "You look hot as fuck," Dean said before starting the car and pulling out of the lot.


	5. You Are What You Love, Not Who Loves You

It had been a week since Gabriel had gotten his tattoo and Dean had done his first gig. The older Winchester sibling had played two gigs since then, and Cas had attended every one of them. Gabriel and Sam were hanging around Singer Salvage after the younger Winchester brother finished his shift working for Bobby Singer. The two men were sitting on the hood of one of the old junkers, sipping on Budweiser as they watched the sky deepen to a purple. The men found themselves glad that it was summer, as the evening air cooled around them.  
Sam was wearing a pair of oil-stained, faded jeans with his usual battered boots. His chiseled torso was bare, gray tank-top beside him on the rumpled hood of a '94 Pontiac. His wavy brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, letting the earrings lining the shell of his ear glimmer in the dying sunlight. The tall male turned to the shorter one, a small smile on his pouty lips. "Y'know, Gabe, you haven't shown me your tattoo yet," he said quietly. Even in the middle of Wichita, there was a stillness in the air that neither of them wanted to break.  
The blond was toying with the crimson locks in his blond hair, the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. He was in a pair of black sweats that hung low on his hips, revealing the white band of his underwear, and his hightop Converse; he was wearing one of Sam's blue and white flannels, unbuttoned to show his pale flesh. His whiskey-colored eyes were only made more dazzling by the fading rays of sunlight, as they rolled over lazily to gaze at Sam. He hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time, at least since he had done pot with his third girlfriend in high school. "Well, Cas said I needed to keep it bandaged for a week for it to heal," was his response.  
A semitruck rolled by, causing Sam to squint his eyes and cover his ears. Horns could be heard in the distance, along with the hum of traffic; every so often, headlights would pass over the fence and highlight the men. The salvage yard was surrounded by a seven-foot-tall chain-link fence that rattled in the wind, and had junk cars at the back of the establishment.  
Sam turned his body, tan skin rippling over toned muscle, so that he could face the tattooed man. His finger traced the ink that covered his arm, then up to his throat, then back down to the bandage on his forearm. His nail picked at the edge of the tape on it, hazel eyes darting from the hidden skin then to amber obs staring back at him. "It has been a week," the 6'4" man whined. "Please, Gabe."  
Gabriel let his smile turn into a smirk, and pulled his arm away teasingly. He placed his palm against the warm skin stretched over Sam's chest, pushing him back against the windshield. He crashed his lips against the Winchester's, kissing him slowly before pulling away equally slow. He peeled the sticky bandage away from the tattoo, revealing the hand-written words that he had paid Cas to make permanent on his skin.  
The words "You are what you love, not who loves you," stared Sam in the face, in delicate, careful print. Print that he identified as his own handwriting, was tattooed into Gabriel's skin, the loopy letters stretched across his forearm.  
Sam's mouth was open, brown-green eyes wide with surprise. His head whipped up, down, then up again; his mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally spoke. "H-how did you get that?" he asked in a quiet voice, tone soft with surprise and awe. The pads of his fingers traced the words, finally landing on his wrist before his hand wrapped around the pulsating area. "I thought I threw that out."  
Gabriel's smirk softened as he watched Sam studying the tattoo; his heart was hammering in his chest, just thinking about what the younger man was doing. He couldn't believe that someone who was so amazing could be worshiping his body like this. He was glad that the cold metal of the Pontiac was there to ground him from the high that Sam was causing him. "Well, I found it in the trash in the shop," Gabriel began in a whisper, "So, I figured I'd save it and, y'know... get it tattooed." A blush was creeping up on his cheeks, as he looked down and let his blond hair curtain his face; the red mingled with the dirty blond locks, causing a strawberry-blond look.  
Sam grabbed his chin with a calloused hand and forced Gabriel to look up at him. Hazel eyes met with amber ones, at the same time as light pink lips met with darker ones. The brown haired man's tongue touched the orchid-shaded lips, asking for entrance before poking into the warm, wet cavern. Their tongues tangled together as the sun sank below the horizon, sky darkening to an indigo color.


	6. The Best of Us Can Find Happiness in Misery

Dean was sprawled out on the futon in Cas's apartment, muscled limbs stretched out to the ends of the brown mattress. His torso was coated in a sheen of sweat, from the warmth of the day. As of now, the only thing on his worn out body was a pair of blue boxer briefs that clung to his nether region with sweat; a bulge was outlined by the thin material. The older Winchester's candy green eyes flickered open to look over at Cas sitting two yards away from him; his puffy lips tilting up into a smile as his eyes ventured around the apartment.  
It wasn't very big, but it was nice the was Castiel Novak had it set up. Every floor in the place was hardwood, smooth and glinting in the late-afternoon sun. Windows were covered in thin, cream-colored curtains that fell just short of touching the floors. The bathroom couldn't be seen from where they were right now, but it was kept pretty clean with a shelf for body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, and another shelf for his tooth brush and tooth paste, along with deodorant. The kitchen was tidy, aside from the small pile of dishes in the sink; the shelves were organized, as was the fridge, and the counters were bare. A small magnetic whiteboard hung on the fridge door, with the word 'beef' written on it in small, tight handwriting. The sitting room consisted of a blue-and-green loveseat, a brown armchair, a coffee table with a couple of magazines on it, and a TV hooked up to an XBox. A stack of games was underneath the coffee table, mostly of the horror genre. The bedroom was mostly empty, with only a futon, a small bookshelf with two rows of books, a closet filled with jeans, band T-shirts, sweats, and a couple of jackets, and a little set up for Cas to work on his painting.  
Cas had told Dean that he was taking painting classes every Thursday night; he thought that it might help with his skills as a tattoo artist. He was sitting on a pillow in front of his easel, an outline already started on the canvas. A thin paintbrush was poised in his strong hand as his cobalt eyes darted between the surface and the man on his bed. The neon-green haired man noticed Dean's smile and tilted his head, lip ring dangling a little as he did so. "What are you smiling about?" he asked. Cas was asking questions all the time, he wanted to know everything about the man he had tattooed for years.  
The blond lifted his head, green eyes hooded as he looked at Cas. "Huh? Oh, I was just thinking about how we've known each other for years, but we've never actually gotten to know each other," he answered. His gruff voice was quiet in the small room. A chuckle escaped his throat as he scratched at the shadow of a beard that was growing on his jaw. "Y'know, I used to lay awake at night staring at the ceiling fan and thinking about you. I would wonder why someone as smart as you landed in a job like tattooing people. I would ask myself how you could make me feel so nervous when I'd just walk into the parlor, or how you could make me feel things that I wasn't sure I knew. I wanted to let you hold me while I asked you about your childhood, but I also wanted to pin you to the wall and fuck your brains out. I thought for sure I was going insane when I'd be in town and something would remind me of you; or, I'd see couples doing things and wish it was me with you." Dean opened his eyes again, looking into the oceans that were Castiel's eyes. "You drove me to places I'd never been, and I wanted to hate you for it, but damn if I didn't love it."  
Cas set his paint brush on the newspaper he had spread on the floor, and stood up; he crossed the room in four swift strides, and sat beside the taller man. He wanted to tell him, this man who had done the same thing to him, so much, but couldn't think of any words. So, instead, he crashed his lips against Dean's; he straddled stong hips, his gray sweats riding low on his own hipbones. His lips were probably bruising the Winchester's already deep pink lips, but he didn't care; his tongue was battling for dominance, moans escaping him. His hands were roaming over hard muscle, nails dragging across the sensitive flesh that peeked above Dean's underwear. Fuck, Cas wanted to take the man below him now, it was torture to not have their naked bodies pressed together; but, he loved the tension building in his gut, loved the yearning he felt deep inside his soul.  
Dean was tugging Cas's light gray sweats down his thighs, gasping when he realized the green-haired man wasn't wearing any underwear. His hand wrapped around a thick, throbbing cock, drawing moans from both of them. He managed to snake the pants the rest of the way down Cas's legs, throwing them towards the doorway; his own cock was pressed against the man on top's ass, and he rutted against that warm, cushioned rear. He used his free hand to snake his briefs down, and tossed them the same way the pants went.  
Cas grabbed the hand on his cock and pulled it off, with a slight groan, and crawled down; he crawled down and down until his face was inches from Dean's cock. He rubbed his lip ring against the hot flesh, lips brushing against the head before he opened his mouth and sucked the head in. He bobbed his head, going further each time, until his nose was brushing bristly, black pubic hairs and his lips were stretched around the girth. He hummed, sucking and bobbing his head, before Dean pulled him off.  
Dean sucked two of his fingers and circled the rim of Cas's asshole, inserting them slowly. He scissored his fingers, stretching the rim of muscle for a few seconds before pulling out and aiming his cock. He pressed the leaking head against Cas's begging asshole, rubbing and teasing; finally, fucking finally, he slowly pulled Cas down, pushing his dick inside with a long moan.  
Cas's ass met with Dean's thighs, both of them sweating and panting already. Slowly, so fucking slow, Cas began to rut down, squeezing his muscles around Dean and moaning into his ear. Somehow, the blond man managed to get harder from the sounds his lover was making, and grabbed his hips, fingers digging hard into the soft skin there; he slammed into Cas, growling deep in his throat as he fucked the blue-eyed man in his lap. Their sounds were mingling in the still, hot air of the apartment as their lips clashed, tongues tangling together.   
Dean's hips began to stutter as Cas shouted, the taller man's cock slamming into his prostate. He bit down on the muscle connecting Cas's shoulder and neck, teeth leaving a deep mark there. The neon-green haired man was sucking on any skin he could reach, leaving marks all over Dean's chest and neck; when he latched onto a nipple, Dean came with a gutteral scream.  
The older Winchester looked at Cas with clouded eyes, before his cock slipped out; he wrapped a blazing hot hand around Cas's still hard cock, jerking it slowly. He was purposely teasing the whimpering man, drawing out his torture. The blond's thumb grazed the leaking slit, rubbing precum over the head as he began to speed up. Dean used his other hand to cup Cas's balls, massaging them as he jerked his hard, leaking cock.  
The cobalt-eyed man couldn't take it anymore as he came, the strings of cum landing on Dean's abs and hand, a few drops even making it up to his chest. Cas was panting, collapsed against Dean as he came down from the high that he had caused with only his words.


	7. We Don't Have To Be

Dean Winchester was on stage at the Brickyard, singing again; the middle-aged man was clad in tight black jeans, his cowboy boots, and an Avenged Sevenfold tee. Tonight he had a pink stud on his nose. His jade eyes were met by sapphire ones, a smile curling the corners of his rosy lips as the words spilled out. The blond was tapping his foot, his fingers strumming the chords of his guitar to the tune of Nightmare. His tattoos were like liquid on his skin as they danced over the muscles of his arms. A phoenix was seemingly flying, the name of his mother was waving, and a Latin phrase curled and uncurled. The blue tips in his hair were faded to the point they were almost powder blue.  
Cas was humming along as he sipped on Irish Cream, fingers thrumming on the table top. The same table that he and Dean would get every night that the older Winchester would perform. The lime-green haired man was wearing a pair of low-slung gray skinny jeans with a pair of sneakers, a Fall Out Boy cutoff that revealed muscular biceps, and a black beanie. He set the drink down and blew a kiss to Dean, giggling when the man on stage winked in return.  
The club had gained business since Dean had started, and many of the patrons enjoyed his smooth voice.  
The song ended and Dean took a swig from a bottle of water before looking out over the audience. "I'm gonna sing one for the lovesick puppies out there tonight," he said in a gravelly voice that made Cas shiver. His fingers began to strum the chords to a song that was familiar, yet not quite place-able. "I dreamt of angels, choking on their halos. Make them drunk on ro-ose water," Dean's silky singing reached Cas's ears. A grin was on the blond's face as he continued the song for a while; it was a few lyrics later that he winked at Cas as he sang. "Anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name. It will be held against you."  
The waitress swung by and refilled the lime haired man's drink. She was a ginger, with freckles splattered on her face like little stars, and brown eyes. "Your boyfriend is a great singer," she said with a smile. Her name tag had 'Hayley' written on it in Sharpie; she was one of the new girls here, having started three days ago.  
Cas's fair skin turned a brilliant shade of pink as he choked on his own spit. He turned to Hayley with wide, azure eyes. "W-what?" he stuttered out. Yeah, he and Dean were dating, but that wasn't public news. The blue-eyed man wiped his lips with the back of his hand, stubble grazing the sensitive skin there.  
Hayley noticed the words 'I don't know where you're going but do you have room for one more troubled soul?' in green ink on Cas's forearm in small print. "I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, "I just assumed that, with the way he kept winking at you, that you were dating." The waitress's cheeks were starting to heat up as she frantically apologized.  
Cas raised up a hand to stop her, a smile on his pale pink lips. "It's alright, we are. I just didn't notice that it was that obvious," he assured her. He looked over to the stage to see Dean's hips wiggling a little as he sang.  
"My heart is like a stallion, they love it more when it's broken. Do you wanna feel beautiful? Do you wanna? Yeah," the emerald-eyed Winchester sang as he watched Cas talk with the red-headed waitress. "I'm outside the door, invite me in. So we can go back and play pretend." His hips were swaying to the words coming out of his mouth, foot tapping lightly to the music.  
After another couple minutes, the song ended and Dean wrapped up his session. The job was making quite a bit of money for just having to sing to a bunch of strangers.  
Cas paid for his drinks, shouldering his denim jacket as Dean strode up to him. "You did great tonight," he said with a smile. They walked out of the crowded club as the patrons gave compliments to the blond man, clapping him on the shoulder and shaking his hand. Cas held the door for his boyfriend, following him out to the sleek, black Chevrolet Impala that he had grown to love. The couple climbed in, the smell of leather filling their nostrils.  
"I was thinking of swinging by Wal-Mart and getting some hair dye," Dean said as he started the engine. He put the classic model in reverse, backing out of the parking space before he pulled out of the lot. "Maybe dying my hair purple, now that I have a job that won't fire me for doing it. I don't have to worry about fuckers telling me that I'm unprofessional or that I need to change just to work for them."  
Cas rolled his eyes and flicked on the radio to a classic rock station. "You know you shouldn't listen to those assholes, Dean," he informed the blond beside him. "They don't matter, and even if they did we don't have to be what they want us to be." His hand landed on Dean's denim-clad thigh with a slight 'slap!'.  
The older Winchester smirked and glanced at the nebula eyes beside him, turning onto Kellogg to head to the Wal-Mart. "Thanks, babe," he murmured. A blush was faintly there on his tan skin as he avoided the crazy drivers that were always on the Highway.  
It was about forty minutes later that they got back to the Winchester's home, Dean towing Cas behind him. Castiel Novak had never been to Dean's home, and he was nervous. Sure, it was only the brothers there, but he was always anxious in new settings. The green-haired man was surprised to see that the place was tidy.  
The Winchesters lived in a two bedroom, one-and-a-half bathroom house. The living room-dining room combo was clean, with a flatscreen TV on a stand in front of a beat-up leather couch with a coffee table, a dining set (a shocker to Cas) with four chairs, a shelf of DVD's and video games, and a computer desk set off in a corner. The kitchen was small and simple; a side-by-side fridge/freezer combo, electric stovetop oven, no dishwasher, and absolutely full of cabinets. The bathroom on the first level was the half-bath, with just a toilet and sink, but there were medicine bottles on the ledge of the sink. The upstairs was equally tidy, aside from Dean's room. The bathroom upstairs had a walk-in shower with two sets of bodywash, shampoo, conditioner, and a razor; there were cubby-holes that each brother kept their belonging in. The mirror above the sink was also a medicine cabinet, with toothbrushes, toothpaste, an electric razor, q-tips, and various other hygienic supplies inside. There was a plain, brown bathmat on the floor. Sam's room was as Cas had expected, with a bookshelf that held mostly car manuals, a queen size bed that was made, a dresser with various belongings on top, shoes stuck at the foot of the bed, a laptop sitting on a bedside stand, but still tidy. Dean's room was messy, but not overly so; he had a queen size bed with the covers thrown to one side, a dresser with one of the doors half-open and a stack of magazines on top, clothes and shoes strewn across the floor, a laptop sitting on a desk that held a couple of books on it, along with a lamp, and a picture hung on the wall. The picture was of Mary, John, Dean, and Sam.  
Cas was surprised at how nice their home seemed.  
Dean led the blue-eyed man up the stairs. "Sammy, we're home," he called.  
Sam's door was closed, but moans could be heard even half-way down the staircase.  
The couple went into the bathroom, and Dean stripped his shirt off. He sat down inside the tub, back to Cas. The green haired man opened the box of hair dye and prepared the bottle within. He put on the plastic gloves provided and began prepping Dean's hair. His fingers were rubbing the roots of the short blond hair, going to the blue tips.  
The dying process took longer than Dean had thought it would. Cas was being very thorough, yet careful to not get the dye on his scalp or neck or face. He grabbed the shower head and hosed down the Winchester's hair until the water ran clear. He repeated the process, until Dean's hair remained a deep purple. Dean blow dried his hair, until it was fluffy and a perfect violet. A grin crossed the man's lips as he turned to Cas.  
"Would you want a strip in your hair?" he asked. The bottle was still a quarter-full. "Purple and green go good together, babe."  
Cas chuckled and rolled his eyes as Dean winked. God, did he love that little wink; the way his eyelashes batted and his nose crinkled a little. He kissed his boyfriend, lips smacking together, as they traded places.


	8. Don't Take Love Off the Table Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets a call.

Gabriel just got off work, still in the uniform that stupid hotel made him wear; blue slacks that rested just above the tip of his dress shoe, a white button-up shirt underneath a blue suit jacket, a name tag (of course) that somehow had his name misspelled on it as 'Gabreil', and a black tie. He was in his silver Honda, pulling onto Pawnee and into the flow of traffic. The blond blew out a gust of breath as he thought of crawling into bed with Sam and relaxing; his amber eyes scanned the side street before turning, anxious to get out of this damn suit. He couldn't believe he finally got off work before nine o'clock for once.  
A driver in a red pickup blasted their horn when a yellow Mustang cut them off. There was a hooker leaning against a streetlamp, trying to wave down customers. The street was unusually slow tonight, as Pawnee was one of the busiest streets in Wichita.  
Gabriel turned onto the barren side street and slowed down in the suburban area. It would be his luck that someone's dog would run out in front of him, he thought. After what felt like an eternity the tired man reached the Winchester residence and pulled into the driveway; he wasn't surprised to see that the Impala was gone, Sam was probably either with Dean or still working at Singer Salvage. Gabriel had always liked that Sam worked with his dad, Bobby. It was nice, knowing that the Winchesters were that comfortable with his father. He looked down at his Android and scrolled through the contacts until he reached Sam's name and hit 'call'.  
After three rings, a perky voice answered excitedly. "Gabe?" Sam asked from the other end.  
"The one and only," Gabriel replied with a smirk planted on his face. He was sure Sam could hear it in his voice. "Where ya at, Sammy?" His fingers drummed on the steering wheel, key still in the ignition but the engine off.  
"I'm still at work. We got a customer in that's willing to pay extra if we can fix a broken piston in his car," Sam explained. "You should come by and see it, babe, it's a classic '65 Chevelle, cherry red with black racer stripes. Maybe bring by some food, too, I haven't eaten since noon."  
Gabriel checked the time on his phone, to see that it was 7:43. "Yeah, want some Sonic? I could bring you by a couple chicken wraps, and I'll grab something for myself. Want any icecream, or a shake?"  
"Oh my God, yes. I want a large, peanut butter-chocolate shake with no cherry. Could you get me three chicken wraps? And could I get an order of chili cheese tots?" Sam begged. The puppy-dog eyes could practically be heard in his tone.  
Gabriel sighed jestingly, rolling his eyes. "Large?" he asked. Sam almost always ordered the same thing.  
"Yes, please."  
"Where do you put it all, you pig? You should be as wide as you are tall by now," Gabriel joked and started the car. "I'll be there in a bit, hon, talk to you then."  
"Bye."  
Gabriel pulled back out of the driveway and turned to where Pawnee and Seneca met, so that he could pick up the food.

\-----

Sam was just finishing up on the vehicle when he heard soft footsteps entering his shop. His head whipped up, brown bangs falling into his face; fortunately the rest was pulled back. His hazel eyes landed on the customer, and he smiled politely. "Mr. Crowley, you'll be glad to see that I just finished up the job," he said as he closed the hood with a slam. The younger Winchester reached out with a large, calloused hand and dropped the keys into a much smaller, softer one.  
Crowley, a man that appeared to be in his late forties-early fifties, was a rather intimidating man. He had short, black hair that was styled even though it was falling out, and light brown eyes that appeared to bore into one's soul. He wore a tailored black suit that looked expensive. He had a groomed beard and mustache, that framed his tight, pursed lips. "Thank you very much, Moose," he said in a Scottish brogue.  
Moose had been the nickname that the millionaire had dubbed Sam Winchester as when he first went to Singer Salvage. Apparently, Sam's height and stature was similar to that of a giant, horned animal (which the young man always denied).  
They finished up the rest of their business, Mr. Crowley even going so far as to tip Sam with a twenty. As the short man walked out, an equally short man walked in.  
Gabriel smiled as he held up the sack of food and a milkshake. "Who's your favorite?" he asked as he spread his arms wide and cocked his head to the side. His red bangs fell in a wave at the action.  
Sam hugged Gabriel, snatching the shake from him in the process and taking a long slurp from the Styrofoam cup. "You are definitely getting laid tonight," the enormous man said as he took the proffered food. He unwrapped one of the chicken wraps and took a large bit out of it before continuing to talk. "You barely got here in time to see the Chevelle. Isn't it awesome?" he asked around a mouthful of food.  
Gabriel nodded as the classic pulled out of the garage. "How many times do I have to tell you to not talk with your mouth full?" he chastised with a wink.  
Sam swallowed and stooped down to kiss Gabriel. After he pulled away he realized that the shorter man had no cup of his own. "Didn't you get anything to drink? You always get an Oreo blast, or icecream."  
Gabriel blushed as he pulled out his own burger and began to chow down on it. After two bites he paused and admitted he had at his Oreo blast on the way there, before returning to the food. He popped a handful of fries in his mouth and smiled sheepishly at his boyfriend before snuggling against him as they sat on the workbench.  
It was shortly after they had finished their food when they started making out. Sam's hands were roaming over Gabriel's chest, he was still surprised by how firm and smooth it was. "Damn, you look hot as fuck in that suit," the younger Winchester whispered against his lover's lips. They returned to kissing when Bobby knocked on the door frame with a clearing of his throat.  
"Sam, you got a call from that Cas fellow," he said in his gruff, almost hick-like voice. Bobby was an older man, he had a beard that he didn't really keep trimmed, and always wore a blue and white ball cap. He usually wore flannel and jeans, but today he was in a black T-shirt. He held the company phone in a hand scarred and calloused from decades of work.  
Sam parted from Gabriel, a flush on his cheeks, and walked to Bobby. He took the phone, wondering why Cas of all people would be calling him. "Hello?"  
"S-Sam," Cas choked out. It was obvious that he'd been crying or screaming, his voice was raw. "You... you need to get t-to the Via-" The sentence broke as Cas began to cry again.  
Sam's heart was hammering in his chest; he couldn't feel his hands or his feet, and he felt cold as fuck. He felt like he had acid in his throat, and a ringing in his ears. "Cas, calm down. Tell me what's going on," he tried to soothe his brother's lover as best he could. "What's happening?"  
Cas took a deep breath, but Sam could tell it didn't help much. "Dean and I, w-we were going to get some dinner from that new Mexican food place over on Broadway, a-and," Cas paused, his voice was breaking. "We were on my motorcycle, c-cause Dean said th-that he'd ne-" More tears were bubbling out. "He'd never ridden one. And... Oh, God, Sam. We got hit by a fucking m-minivan! We're at Via Christi Hospital, th-they won't tell me about Dean. Please, hurry," Cas finally choked out.  
Sam was holding back tears with all he could. No way was this happening, Dean would be fine. He was fine when they went skiing with the Singers and he broke his leg. He was fine when they got the shit beat out of them after sneaking into a bar in Kansas City. He'd be fine now. "I'll head there now," was all he said as he hung up and turned to Gabriel.


	9. Like a Locket Around Your Throat

Cas was in the waiting room pacing back and forth when Sam and Gabriel got to the hospital. His blue eyes were bloodshot and bleary with tears, face streaked with said tears. His neon green hair now had a purple strip down the middle, a strip that Dean had put in only nights before. The crying man was shaking with sobs when he ran to Sam and enveloped him in a hug. His left arm was in a sling, the doctor said he had a dislocated shoulder and a hairline fracture in his radius.  
"I am so sorry, Sam," he began to babble, "I-I didn't know that... that-" He cut himself off with a broken sob that wrenched Sam's heart.  
Sam shushed him, walking up to the desk where a nurse was sitting with pursed lips. The younger brother was still in denial, he couldn't begin to believe that Dean was hurt. "I'm Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester's brother. I need to see him immediately," he whispered. His brown hair was still pulled back, the loose strands drenched in sweat.  
The nurse stood and lead them down to the ICU, holding up her hand when all three tried to enter. "I'm sorry, but only family members are allowed," she said in an obviously not-sorry voice that only pissed Sam off.  
"They are family," the hazel eyed man growled out with a look that could kill. His lips were turned down in a grimace, muscles in his face twitching.  
"What relation?" she asked as she crossed her arms.  
Gabriel cut in, stepping forward and pressing his hand to Sam's chest as the younger man was about to explode. "We're his cousins. Sammy and I were hangin' out when Cas here called us, crying and saying you guys wouldn't tell him anything," he said with a tight lipped smile that was barely hiding his fury. "Now, we'd like to see Dean."  
The nurse left, letting the three men enter the ICU to see an unconscious Dean Winchester.  
His face was purple with bruises, a deep gash across his left cheek making his face swell even more. Bandages were covering the crown of his head, hiding the purple hair underneath; his left leg was in a cast, he had a neck brace on, and numerous cords and IV's were attached to him. A blanket covered his torso and right leg, as the left was lifted in a sling above the bed. The worst part wasn't even his battered face, or his broken leg, or all the machines hooked up to the unconscious man. Where his left arm, covered in a mural of ink, had been, was now a bandaged stump.  
Sam felt his legs give out as he rushed to the trash can beside the hospital bed, collapsing on the cold tile floor and vomiting up everything he had eaten less than an hour before. His large frame shook as he curled around the plastic trash can, not daring to look up at the still figure in the bed. Tears were slipping down the towering man's chiseled cheeks. His stomach heaved as he looked back up, and he expelled more of his stomach contents into the can he was holding to his chest.  
Gabriel strode up to his lover and placed a hand on his shoulder in silent solace. He couldn't cry, his body wouldn't let him. His blond hair was curtained around his face, the red streak of his bangs blocking his view of his lifelong friend. God, Dean fucking Winchester couldn't be in a hospital bed. It felt too much like something out of a soap opera, with one brother dying, the best friend offering comfort while wearing a stupid fucking suit, and the lover crying as they stand by helplessly. Fuck, Gabriel wasn't even sad right now, which he thought was odd; he was furious. Furious at the nurse for being a bitch, furious at the doctors for not making Dean alright, furious at the minivan for hitting them, furious at everyone.  
The three men sat by Dean's bedside for the entire night, and the next day.  
It was around 10 AM, and Cas blinked tiredly as he scrolled through the contacts in his phone. He hadn't slept at all that night, and was calling The Canvas to say he wouldn't be able to make it in to work. Four rings, and someone picked up. He didn't care who. "Hey, it's Cas. I-I won't be able to make it in to work today," he said in a hoarse voice that cracked every other word.  
"Why not?" the person, most likely Zack, asked in a skeptical tone.  
"There was a-" Cas had to pause to keep himself from shattering. He took a few deep breaths before he could continue. "There was an accident, and I need to be he-"  
"Is it that Dean guy you've been hangin' with?" Zack interrupted. Cas could almost hear him stuffing a wad of chew into his cheek. "Cas, you know that you can't just call and not show up. Besides, man, two other guys already called in today, so you need to come in."  
The green haired man couldn't believe his ears. He had worked holidays, weekends, birthdays, while sick, covered other people's shifts, and even come in on his days off. He stumbled over his words for a minute, then finally answered. "Zack, you don't understand. I can't come in today," he said, choking back sobs as tears leaked from his nebula eyes. "I wouldn't be able to tattoo even if I could."  
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"  
"I dislocated my shoulder and got a hairline fracture in my radius, left arm," Cas informed his oblivious boss. "In the wreck I just fucking told you about. I'm the fucking lucky one. Dea-" He cut himself off, gasping for air as he bit the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. "Listen. I can't come in, you have to find someone to cover."  
"I'm sorry, Cas, but I can't. We have one guy other than me here, and he's the newbie. If you don't come in, I'm gonna have to let you go."  
Cas's jaw dropped and he turned to look at Dean, gathering strength from the unconscious Winchester. "Then I guess you're gonna have to fire me." The pallid man hung up without another word and sat back down beside Dean. He was glad that Gabriel and Sam had gone to get them breakfast from McDonald's. He didn't know how that call was going to go, and didn't want to yell in front of his friends.  
It was about ten minutes later that the couple walked back into the ICU and gave Cas his hotcakes with sausage. The trio ate in silence, hazel, whiskey, and cobalt eyes all locked on the still form in the hospital bed. Sam gave his third sausage egg McGriddle to Gabriel, the emotion settling in his stomach causing him to lose his appetite. Cas noted silently that they had changed their clothes; Sam was in a pair of jeans and a flannel, Gabriel was in sweats and a Fall Out Boy T-shirt.  
It was around 1:30 that Dean opened his eyes. Those dazzling, candy apple eyes that Cas had feared he'd never get to see open again. The injured man tried to reach his left hand up to touch his cheek, but found that he couldn't. "W-what the hell?" he asked in a panicky voice that made the trio around him cringe. "Where the fuck is my arm? What the fuck happened?" His voice was becoming louder and louder, until Sam placed one of his trembling hands on Dean's shoulder.  
"Dean, calm down," the brown haired man commanded him in a steady, yet ready-to-break tone. He had a heavy stubble on his chin, now. "You and Cas were in an accide-"  
The older Winchester immediately swiveled his head around as much as he could, causing a loud crack to fill the room. He spasmed in pain, face screwing up for a few seconds before he looked at his lover. "Cas," he panted out, "A-are you okay, baby?"  
Cas nodded, forcing Dean to put his head back in the position the doctor had told them to keep it in. "Yes, Dean, all I got was a fractured radius and a dislocated shoulder. Now, stop before you hurt yourself," he comforted the purple-haired man in a soothing, gravelly voice.  
Sam was all but coddling his older brother, checking to see if he was hungry, thirsty, cold, hot, uncomfortable, anything. He went to get a burger when Dean asked, Gabriel going along since he was the one with a car.  
Cas sat on the edge of the bed, Dean reaching up his hand to trace his jawline. There was a heavier stubble than normal there, almost a beard at this point. The azure-eyed man reveled in his lover's touch. A tear fell onto the crumpled white sheet covering Dean's lap. "Oh, God, Dean," he began with a gasp, "I was so fucking scared. I was scared that I was going to lose you, and it would have been my fault. I was scared of me being the reason that Sam lost you, and Gabriel lost you. I was so fucking terrified, I thought that you were dead. There was blood, everywhere, Dean. You-"  
Dean was trying to shush Cas, placing his fingers on his puffy, cracked lips. It didn't stop his rambling.  
"Your arm, your fucking arm was across the street. I knew that you were dead, and I had killed you because we were on my bike, and fuck you were gone. I knew I was the reason you were dead, and that lady was panicking and she called 911. Her van, her white fucking van, was splattered with your fucking blood, Dean." Cas began to hyperventilate; his rib cage was too tight, it was squeezing the air out of his lungs as he remembered it. His blue eyes began to widen, pupils shrinking to mere pinpoints as they focused on the IV drip.  
Dean gripped the green haired man's chin and forced the panicking man to look at him. "Cas, baby, it's okay. I'm fine. Look at me, man," Dean assured him in his singing voice. That voice that had made Cas know that he loved him. "I'm alive, and even if I wasn't it wouldn't be your fault, baby. But I'm here, and we're gonna be okay."  
It was his voice more than the words that calmed Cas's panic attack. The lithe, yet muscled man regained control and kissed the hand holding his chin. "You know, it was that night at the Brickyard I knew that I loved you," he said in a whisper. "Your voice, like hell fire one second, and the choir of Heaven the next; it made me realize that you weren't just a rebel customer with an attitude. You have dreams, you want to sing to make the world better for people. And even if you don't make it better for all those shitty people out there, you made it better for me. You gave me a little light now, that I want to spread to other people. You, Dean Winchester, brought me out of my shitstorm of a life and made me realize that it doesn't have to be security and comfort-ability. It can also be spontaneous adventures and doing what you want for yourself. I love you."  
Dean had a giant grin on his face, along with a blush that caused him to duck his head. "I love you too, Cas. I didn't know I did that much for you."  
"You did more," Cas said before kissing the older Winchesters soft lips. It didn't matter that the nurse saw before spinning on her heel to leave.


	10. Fire Alarms and Losing You

It had been three days, and Cas had only left Dean's side once. The green haired man had offered to stay so that Sam could go to work, and promised to call the younger brother if anything happened. As of right now, his blue eyes were locked on Dean's sleeping form; he noticed that Dean slept a lot, even more than the doctor had said he would. Honestly, it worried Cas. He was terrified that Dean was slipping away from him, and that it was his fault.  
The constant beeping of the heart monitor filled the dull, white room. The off-white curtains were pulled back to reveal a pearl gray sky, and a light drizzle. The quiet rumble of thunder was a distant background noise as Cas sat beside Dean.  
A soft buzzing erupted from Castiel's pocket, and he reached a soft hand in to retrieve his phone. He saw that it was a text from Sam, and was surprised to see that it was already 7 o'clock.  
'I'll be by in a bit. What u want to eat?'  
His thumbs slid over the keypad as he typed a response. 'Where u gettin food?' He waited for a minute, until his phone buzzed again.  
'McD's.'  
He thought for a moment before replying. 'Qtr pounder, med fry, Coke.' He pocketed the phone and slouched in the chair. God, was he uncomfortable; his back was sore, his legs were asleep, and his brain felt like it was going to explode if he didn't find something to do. And fuck, if his arm wasn't sore. He shushed his complaining thoughts, telling himself that Dean had it much worse. He reached out and gingerly laid one hand on Dean's.  
The purple haired man's eyelids fluttered before going still. A deep breath left his parted lips as he shifted on the scratchy sheets. He would probably wake up soon, as his stomach gurgled from having not eaten all day. The battered man had slept all of the day, except for when he woke once to drink his water.  
Twenty minutes later, Sam showed up with food. His brown hair wasn't pulled back today, and it looked greasy from a hard day of work. The younger brother had a short beard now, since he hadn't taken the time to shave in the last few days. He was wearing a pair of oil-stained jeans, and a black T-shirt underneath a jean jacket. He was soaked from working out in the drizzle all day. Sam handed one of the bags of food to Cas.  
"Gabriel would be here, but he's working until 11," the hazel eyed man explained. He sat next to Cas and unwrapped a chicken wrap.  
Dean's nose crinkled and his eyes opened, revealing emerald orbs. "Foooood," he groaned out in a raspy voice.  
Cas smiled and offered a handful of fries, popping them into his lover's mouth one at a time. He giggled when Dean's tongue swiped across his palm, licking up the salt there. "Easy there, boy," the blue eyed man scolded. "We're cousins, remember?" He winked with a chuckle, letting Dean take a bit from his burger.  
Sam chuckled and pushed everyone in together, pushing Cas onto the hospital bed beside Dean and taking the green haired man's seat. He pulled out his phone, flicking through the apps until he reached the camera.  
"Watcha doing, bitch?" Dean asked in a quiet voice. A small grin was on his cracked, bruised lips; they were a dark shade of pink, split by deep red cuts.  
"Group selfie, jerk," Sam replied, sticking his tongue out. He reached an arm around Cas, resting his large hand on Dean's left shoulder. "Say...."  
"Assbutt!" Cas said with a smile that made Dean's heart squeeze and his cheeks flush.  
"Assbutt!" the brothers chimed as Sam took the photo.  
It was nice, the three of them crowded together and smiling like fools. Sam posted it on Facebook with the caption 'Dean's doing a lot better now!'. The younger brother took a few more pictures; one of Dean and Cas kissing, one of him with Cas, and one of him with his brother. All the pictures were uploaded to Facebook, with little captions to let people know how the older Winchester was doing.  
It was around 11:30 when Gabriel popped in with a large Butterfinger blast and a drink carrier full of chocolate shakes. "Hey, hey, hey," he said with a grin, "Thought I'd bring some shakes to cheer everyone up." The blond man passed out the treats, jokingly withholding Sam's until he got a kiss.  
They all sat around talking and laughing, Sam taking even more pictures now that Gabriel had showed up. The short man was balancing his spoon on his nose, while still trying to eat his ice cream. A nurse came in and told them to quiet down with a scowl, only causing the group to snicker quietly when she left.  
Cas was still in bed with Dean, nuzzled against his cheek. "I'm so glad you're alright," he whispered as he placed feather light kisses along the bearded jawline. His own black scruff mixed with Dean's blond hairs.  
Sam checked his phone, shocked to see that it was a quarter past 1. "Hey, Gabe and I are gonna head home. I have to work early tomorrow," Sam said as he stood and stretched. When his muscular arms fell back to his sides, the brown haired man turned to Cas. "You want a ride?"  
Cas shook his head, snuggling in with Dean even more. "Nah, I think I'm gonna stay here again tonight. The nurse was talking about letting me use the other bed, now that Dean's in his own room."  
Sam nodded, gingerly hugging his brother before leaving. Gabriel ruffled Dean's hair, and made a snark remark before trailing after Sam.  
The couple sat in silence for a while before either of them said anything. Cas was content listening to the taller man's heartbeat and breathing. Eventually, Dean broke the silence.  
"I'm so glad we got together, Cas," he whispered, voice small and cracking. "Y'know, I used to think of you all the time. I would think about how you just seemed so perfectly flawed, and how you didn't care one bit. You, Castiel, you were this god walking among men, and you didn't care that you were different. You didn't care when anyone said anything, even when it was horrible. And I'll admit, I was terrified; I was terrified that you were this amazing person and I was some dropout with six bucks to his name."  
Cas tried to speak up, but Dean placed his finger to his lips. His candy apple eyes bore into eyes as deep and beautiful as the ocean.  
"To me you were this person that was everything I'd ever wanted to be. You were everything I ever wanted. Hell, I even imagined settling down and having an apple pie life with you; white picket fence, me mowing the lawn, homemade meals, maybe even a couple kids, and a dog. But the point is, ever since I first walked into that parlor, I knew that I wanted you. I knew that even if it'd kill me, I'd get you. And I got you, then I almost lost you. We've known each other for what, four years now? You know why I got every tattoo, I know why you became an artist. You know things about me that I never told anyone, Cas, and I'm guessing it's the same likewise."  
Cas nodded, entranced in what Dean was telling him. He couldn't believe that the man he had inked for years felt the same way for him all this time. He couldn't believe that someone could think him so perfect, and want him so much.  
"I guess what I'm trying to say, is that you're perfect for me, and I like to think I'm perfect for you. And I have something I want to do when I get out of here. Could you bring me my jacket?" Dean pointed over to his beat-up brown leather jacket on the table by the bathroom door.  
Cas walked over and picked up the heavy jacket. He carried it over to Dean and set it beside him on the bed. His head was tilted like a curious puppy dog's, blue eyes as beautiful as ever.  
Dean's hand was in the pocket, but his fairy tale eyes locked on his lover. A soft, passionate smile was on his lips. "Castiel Novak, I want you to be my happily ever after," he finally said as he pulled out a handcrafted ring.  
Cas's hands flew to his mouth, cobalt eyes tearing up as he looked from the glinting metal to Dean. "Oh my God," he gasped out, "Yes! Dean, oh my God, please tell me this isn't a joke."  
Dean shook his head. "No joke, babe. I had Sammy make it for me at the shop. It's part of the Impala's original engine, from when I had to replace it. Bobby let me keep it in the salvage yard, and I asked Sam if he'd make it for me. He was more than happy to, but I had to force him not to tell Gabe. Loud mouth would've told you," Dean was babbling. His freckled cheeks were bright red as he looked down at the ring.  
Cas put it on his left ring finger, and leaned forward, planting his lips on Dean's. "I love you, Dean Winchester," he mumbled against those cracked, yet perfect lips. The lips he had wanted to kiss since he first saw the Winchester walk through The Canvas's door.  
"I love you too, Ca-"  
Dean collapsed back onto the pillow with a thud, and the sound of shifting sheets. His emerald eyes were rolling back into his head, jaw muscles clenched tight as drool began to spill from the corners of his mouth. His body was jerking spasmodically, fingers clutching the leather jacket. His head was slamming down onto the pillow repeatedly, hips bucking as he spasmed.  
Cas screamed, jumping up and yelling for someone to help. He stepped back, letting a doctor rush in and roll Dean onto his side. He was checking all the vitals, and yelling to a nurse. Cas wasn't registering any of what the man was saying. Tears were spilling from his azure eyes as he gasped, hyperventilating. He was saying Dean's name over and over, praying to a God he had never asked help from before. He pulled his phone out of his pocket with a trembling hand, and called Sam after three mis-dials.  
"Huh?" Sam asked groggily. Gabriel could be heard in the background asking who it was.  
"S-s-Sam!" Cas finally stuttered out. He was panting now, looking at Dean's convulsing figure and the doctors and nurses surrounding him. "D-Dean, he-he's... I don't know! Oh, oh my God, he's having like, a-a-a fit, or a s-seizure or some-something!" His voice was highpitched, no longer his natural gravelly voice. His breath was hitching every other syllable.  
Sam didn't even answer, he hung up. Cas knew he was on his way. The blue eyed man turned to the scene before him, vision blurred with unrelenting tears.  
"Oh, God, Dean, please don't leave me," he gasped out.


	11. Just One Yesterday

It had been 2:04 in the morning when Dean started convulsing. It was 2:09 when the doctor, Richings or something, tried to resuscitate Dean using defibrillators. 2:11 when Sam and Gabriel rushed into the hospital, the younger Winchester still in his boxers. 2:17 when Dean Winchester, freshly engaged to Castiel Novak, older brother to Samuel Winchester, was declared dead.  
Sam couldn't believe it, his head felt like he was in one of those dreams where he was screaming and he couldn't get a sound out of his throat. His hazel eyes, a dazzling mixture of olive green and brown, were swimming in tears; those hot, burning tears soon fell down his scruffy cheeks. The towering man fell to the black-and-white tiled floor, not even noticing the shooting pain in his knees when he did so. His brown hair fell in curtains around his twisted, pained face. His lips were twitching ferociously as he fought back sobs, a giant lump forming in his throat. The world began to spin as the collapsed man began to heave; he reached for a trashcan, a nurse pushing one in front of him a split second before his stomach contents spilled.  
Gabriel was stunned, barely aware enough to kneel beside his boyfriend and hold his bed-head hair out of his face with fingers that could barely be felt. The blond's whiskey-colored eyes were unfocused, unable to take in anything around him other than his hands in Sam's hair. He couldn't even process past 'I'm sorry'.  
Finally, Sam stopped vomiting, instead shaking uncontrollably; he fell back onto his ass, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping shaky arms around them. He looked up to Dr. Julian Richings, mouth agape and head shaking in denial. "No, nonono," he mumbled with a tongue that felt like iron. "Y-you must have checked wrong o-or something! Dean's NOT dead." A hysterical, uncharacteristically high pitched giggle left the crying man's throat. Tears were soaked into his scraggly, scratchy brown beard.  
The doctor's mouth was down-turned in a grimace, dark eyes filled with sympathy. His shoulder length black hair was slicked back, the ends barely covering a small tattoo of a skull on his neck, behind his ear. "I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester, we tried everything we knew to try to save your brother," he said in a slow, cool, yet comforting tone.  
Sam's blood-shot eyes met with the doctor's empathetic ones. Tears that felt like they were boiling his tan skin were sliding down his cheeks. His pink, soft lips were trembling as gasps left them; his breathing was hitched and broken, almost to the point of an anxiety attack. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, but he couldn't say anything. Instead, he buried his tear soaked face in Gabriel's neck, screaming into the warm skin and muscles there. His sobs and screams were muffled by Gabriel cradling him.  
The blond was finally brought out of his shock, and realized what exactly was going on. His best friend since grade school, Dean fucking Winchester, was dead. He looked down and saw Sammy, his boyfriend and his best friend's brother, bawling into his T-shirt; he wrapped his arms around the broken man, holding him and shushing him. "Sammy, please, please listen," he whispered in his ear.  
Sam looked up with bleary eyes, snot dripping from his nose. He took a tissue from the doctor with a feeble thanks, blowing his nose loudly before looking back at Gabriel.  
"I'm not going to tell you that it'll be alright, because that would be a lie. But I am going to tell you that Dean wouldn't want you to be like this, he wouldn't want you to be hurting so much. Now, hon, I'm not gonna tell you how to feel and I won't tell you not to hurt, 'cause it's gonna fucking hurt. But please, for the moment, be strong enough to get through this; even if it's one day at a time, get through this. We have to be there for Cas right now, and he'll be here for us. Okay, baby?" the amber eyed man said in a soothing, melodic voice. He brushed his red bangs out of his face with the hand that wasn't tangled in Sam's own brown hair.  
The remaining Winchester brother sniffled and wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands roughly. Finally, he nodded and stood on trembling legs and took a deep, steadying breath. "C-can I see him?" he asked in a weak voice.  
The couple were led back to the room where Cas was crying, laying beside Dean in the bed. His face was crumpled, an expression of absolute devastation and brokenness. His green head was pressed against Dean's purple one, tears falling into the soft hair. His blue irises were contrasted by blood red surrounding them; those morose eyes turned slowly to look at the pair entering the dark room.  
Sam walked up to the bed slowly, leaning on Gabriel for support the closer he got to his brother's still, departed body. "C-Cas," he said quietly. "We're here for you."  
The smaller man lurched from the bed with a speed Sam hadn't predicted, latching onto the gigantic man and sobbing uncontrollably. "Oh my God, Sam, I'm so-o-o sorry!" he all but screamed into the Winchester's side. "He's gone, and it's all my fault! I'm sorry, Sam, I'm so sorry! If we hadn't been going to get food, if we wouldn't have rode the bike... Oh, fuck! I'm so fucking sorry!" Sobs wracked the lithe, yet muscled man's frame. His fingers were digging into Sam's shirt, bunching up the fabric in his fists.  
Sam sat in the chair beside the bed, wrapping his arms around Cas and holding him there until his sobs subsided. "Cas, it's not you're fault. You had no way of knowing this could happen," he whispered in a voice that was broken, yet strong. Veins stood out in his neck and arms as he held himself together, Gabriel standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder. "This is not your fault, you've got to get that thought out of your mind right now. These kind of th-thing, they... they just happen. We have no way of knowing when, how, or why, but they do. And we can't change that, and we don't have to like that, but we do have to accept it."  
Gabriel walked around to crouch in front of Cas, tapping his arm lightly to catch his attention. "Cas, this is going to be a hard time for all of us, and we're going to have to stick together. We're going to have to be here for each other and support each other, because we're a family. And I want you to know, that you made these last few months the happiest of Dean's life; I didn't see him this happy in high school, or when we'd go partying. Only when you were around, Cas. Just know that you were his silver lining, man."  
The cobalt eyed man was sniffling now, tears still falling into his soggy, black beard. He reached his left hand up and swiped it across his face roughly to clear the tears away.  
Sam noticed a glint in the dim light, and saw the ring he had welded from the Impala's original engine. His lips tilted up in a faint ghost of a smile. "So Dean finally asked you, huh?" he asked quietly, gesturing to the silver ring on his finger. "Y'know, he had to put off a date with you to ask me to do that. 'Had to find a time when blabber mouth was away', he said."  
Cas sniffled and giggled brokenly, nodding as he looked down at the ring Dean had proposed to him with, only minutes before passing. "Yeah," he said, almost talking to himself. "He said he wanted me to be his apple pie life."  
The three sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, but was less than five minutes. Eventually, Sam walked around the bed to sit on the opposite side of his brother. His face looked peaceful, the muscles relaxed and the lips turned up in an almost-smile. His cheeks and chin were covered in a blond beard, and Sam let his fingers travel over the hair there.  
The lost brother began to cry, tears falling onto his older brother's face. He wiped the tears away, careful not to disturb his resting expression. Hazel eyes glanced around the solemn room and landed on a pair of scissors laying on a nurse's tray. He asked Gabriel to grab them, holding out his hand like a toddler does for their mother's hand. He took the orange-handled tool in his shaking fingers, and snipped some of Dean's hair, handing it to Cas. He snipped off another lock of the purple hair, smiling sadly when he saw parts of Dean's natural blond peeking through the violet tones. Sam gripped the hair like a lifeline, refusing to even hand it to Gabriel, and if he had pockets he wouldn't put it in them.  
Gabriel watched as his lover pet his brother's hair, mumbling to him.  
"God, Dean, why'd you have to leave?" he whispered in the tone of a lost child. Dean had been there all his life, taken care of him when their father was too drunk to (which was most of the time). He was everything to Sam, what the hell would he do without him? "Why'd you have to leave me, big brother?" A sob wrenched out of the broken man's chest, and he clasped the hand not holding the lock of hair to his mouth. Muffled cries filled the room.  
Gabriel went to the hallway to talk with the nurse asking what they wanted to do. He couldn't stand to see his best friend, dead, and his lover crying, broken.  
Cas was past the tears, he had closed himself in. His blue eyes were zoned out, like he was no longer in this hospital; he had probably retreated somewhere to keep himself from shattering. He was laying next to Dean, in bed, and that was all that he needed. Dean. But Dean was gone. Even then, he couldn't cry. Even though his heart felt like it was collapsing in his chest, and his life was tearing at the seams, he couldn't cry. His head turned mechanically, looking deadpan at Sam crying over Dean, but he wasn't taking any of that in. His last moment with Dean, living, breathing Dean, was playing over and over. 'Castiel, I want you to be my happily ever after.'  
Gabriel came back into the room and stood Sam up, grunting from the effort of having to lift a man almost twice his size. "C'mon, Sammy, they need to take Dean somewhere now. It'll be okay, baby, calm down. They just need to figure out what happened. Let's all three of us go home, and they'll call us in the morning," Gabriel was comforting the two men as they shifted out of the room. Gabriel was supporting Sam out of the hospital, through the parking lot, and into his car.  
Dr. Julian Richings was walking to his white Cadillac, a brief case in his wrinkled hand. His black eyes landed on the trio climbing into the silver Honda, and he nodded. "Try to get some rest tonight, boys," he called over to them. "You have a rough time ahead of you."  
Cas was in a walking coma at this point, the words didn't even get past his ears.  
Sam, in pretty much the same condition, just slouched down in the passenger seat of the silver car. His hazel eyes looked up at Gabriel as the shorter man closed the car door.  
Gabriel thanked the doctor quietly before entering the vehicle himself. He started the engine, fumbling with the keys three times before he could. The car ride to the Winchester home was silent; no radio, no traffic, only the quiet sound of breathing.  
The only sound as they made their way to the bedrooms of the home was the creaking of floorboards. Sam and Gabriel slept in one room, both of them making sure that Cas would be alright by himself. The blue-eyed man assured them that he would be as he opened the door to Dean's room. He closed the door behind him, changing out of the clothes he had worn for five days and into a pair of Dean's boxers and his AC/DC shirt. The same shirt the Winchester had worn when Cas first heard him sing. The numb man flopped onto the mattress, burying his nose in Dean's pillow; it smelled like him.  
Fresh tears sprung to the broken lover's eyes as he inhaled the scent. His arms wrapped around the pillow, hugging it to his chest. The whole room was Dean, he was sure if he opened the closet he'd find his guitar in there. The amp was hooked up to an outlet underneath a window covered in blinds.  
It was a little under an hour when exhaustion finally overcame Castiel Novak, and he fell into a restless sleep. Even then, one thing ran through his mind.   
Dean Winchester, freshly engaged to Castiel Novak, and older brother to Samuel Winchester, was dead.


	12. While The Rhythm of The Rain Keeps Time

Castiel moved into the Winchester home, leaving his apartment and selling most of his furniture. He was staying in Dean's old room, and he mostly wore Dean's old clothes. It had been two months, since Dean passed away on August 14th, 2015. The room, the clothes, the pillow, all of it still smelled like him. The blue eyed man had stripped the dye out of his hair, going to his natural black color instead. Except for the purple strip; he wouldn't get rid of that. His left arm had healed up, but it was still sore on bad days. Especially rainy ones, like today.  
Cas was laying in bed, wearing a flannel shirt that was about one size too big for him, and skinny jeans. His stocking feet dangled over the side of the bed as he waggled them back and forth. The middle-aged man was going through pictures he had taken to be printed out at he Wal-Mart. Pictures of him and Dean together, or Dean when he wasn't looking.  
There was one of them together watching fireworks, the reflections like miniature pictures in Dean's candy apple eyes. Another of Dean singing on stage, his foot mid-tap and his fingers on the strings of his electric guitar. That guitar was hooked up to the amp right now, on the stand right next to his easel. Sometimes Cas could swear he'd hear a chord play, when the room was most silent. He flicked through more pictures. One of them kissing, another of Dean shirtless with Cas's feet in his lap, and yet another of them eating spaghetti like Lady and the Tramp. Cas flipped through more of them together, and landed on one that he had realized was his favorite the second he took it: Dean was holding the phone in this one, angling the camera so that his head was in the upper half of the picture while Cas's head, resting on his bare chest, was in the bottom half. A grin was on the blond's lips, eyes not focused on the phone, but looking down at the man resting on him; Cas could see the absolute adoration in those beautiful, enchanting emerald eyes.  
Cas put the stack of pictures down, taking that particular one and putting it in one of the frames he had bought. He angled the frame so that it was facing the bed and returned to the pictures. Some would go in an album, others would go in frames, and yet others would probably go to Sam.  
One picture caught Cas's eye. It was one that Dean had sent him, with the caption 'thinking of you'. Dean's face was centered perfectly, blond hair feathered with dark blue tips that Cas's fingers itched to toy with again. His eyes, the eyes that Cas had spent hours staring into, were glimmering with happiness, and love, and something more. Something Cas couldn't place. Maybe it was mischievousness. The blue eyed man looked at the date and realized something. That was the day Dean had put off their date, when he had.... When he had asked Sam to make his ring. Light pink, pouty lips were turned up in a captivating smile that made Cas smile in turn.  
This picture went in another frame, this one angled so that Cas could look at it as he'd fall asleep.  
Around 6 o'clock, Sam called Cas down to the kitchen for dinner. He was surprised to see Bobby Singer, Gabriel's dad, sitting at the dining room table.  
Gabriel ushered Cas to sit, coming in with a platter of tacos. He set the steaming dish down on the mahogany tabletop, waving his hands melodramatically afterwards. "Well, I guess you two are wondering what Sammy boy and I are hiding from you," Gabriel said.  
"Gabe, don't call me Sammy boy yet," Sam whispered to Gabriel. It still made his heart ache horribly when he was called Sammy or Sammy boy. It hadn't gotten any better since Dean had passed, but it had gotten a little easier to get through day to day.  
Gabriel nodded and kissed Sam on the cheek, gripping his large hand with his own smaller one. They turned back to the two sitting cluelessly at the table. "Last night, I asked Sam if he would marry me," he clued them in.  
Cas smiled stood, hugging Sam and congratulating him.  
Bobby had a grin on his face and unshed tears in his steel eyes. He pulled his son into a hug, and didn't let go for a while. "I'm so proud of you, Gabe," he finally whispered in a choked up voice. The older man had known for a very, very long time about his son's crush on the younger Winchester, and had never judged him for it. It was quite the opposite, he had been ushering Gabriel to ask Sam out.  
When the two stopped hugging and congratulating the couple, Sam had them sit back down. His hazel eyes were happy, yet still sorrowful. "If," he paused, trying to collect himself again. "If things were different, I'd be asking Dean to be my best man. And in my heart, he is. But I want to ask you, Cas, if you'll stand in for him."  
Cas was shocked, cobalt eyes wide and mouth agape as he stared at Sam in disbelief. Did he really ask that? Finally, the black haired man nodded quickly. "Oh my God, Sam," he said quietly, "I'd be honored to." He stood and pulled Sam in for another hug, catching the much larger man off guard with his strength.  
Sam chuckled and returned the hug. "Damn, work out much?" he joked.  
Cas released him with a sheepish smile, a slight blush on his face. "Sorry," he mumbled before sitting back down.  
Gabriel looked at Bobby with somber eyes. "And I was going to ask if you wanted to be my best man, dad," Gabriel said. He knew his dad would say yes, but he didn't expect the old man to lift him into the air and squeeze him to death.  
And Bobby did just that, lifting Gabriel up and squeezing him until he couldn't breathe. His tight lips were pulled back in a broad grin, eyes crinkled with happiness. "Of course, you idjit," he responded. Finally he set his son down, letting him breathe once more.  
The four of them sat down and ate dinner, talking with each other like they hadn't done in two long months. They all knew that it would be hard, hell, it had been hard, but they knew it would get better. After dinner, they watched a game on TV.  
Gabriel was trying to shove Sam over, putting all his weight against the behemoth of a man. "Move over jerkface," he said forcefully, panting for breath.  
"You move, asshat," Sam shot back.  
Gabriel crawled on top of Sam, sprawling out and getting in the way of him seeing the TV. His blond hair was cascaded over a flannel clad shoulder, hand on Sam's face. "Mooooooove," he whined.  
"Shut up, De-" Sam cut himself off. He realized what he almost said and his chest was squeezing too tight from it. "I need to use the restroom." He tried to stand, but Gabriel wouldn't let him.  
"Sam, it's okay," the shorter man assured him. His arms wrapped around Sam's neck, pulling him into a tight hug. "I know, it takes getting used to. Like losing a part of yourself. 'Cause it is. But if you try to hide it and run away, it only gets worse. Now come here and let me comfort you." Gabriel held Sam, and the four of them settled in again to watch the game.  
Cas excused himself to go to bed around 10. He had been tired a lot lately. The healing man had been looking for a job lately, but hadn't been able to find one. Sam had told him he didn't need to worry about money, to just focus on getting better first. Maybe he'd do that. He had gone and gotten his tools from The Canvas, since he used his own tattoo gun and ink. The tools sat in a box in the closet, on the shelf next to a notebook he had found, but didn't want to look through yet.  
As Cas crawled into bed, he shed his jeans and socks. He laid there in Dean's flannel shirt and a pair of his own boxers. He was looking at the picture, into Dean's emerald eyes as he began to drift into sleep.  
That's when he heard the similar noise of a strumming guitar. He was jerked awake, and his eyes crossed over to the electric guitar on it's stand. Even in the dim moonlight he could see that one of the chords was still thrumming. He waited and saw another string began to vibrate, the noise falling on his ears pleasantly. "Dean?" he asked aloud in the otherwise silent room.  
The same chord strummed, and Cas recognized it. A 'D' note.  
A smile was on the lonely man's lips, tears leaking out of his eyes and onto the pillow. "I've missed you." His voice was cracking.  
The strings didn't move. No sound was made. Instead, a cool, yet comforting presence was felt next to Cas. The mattress dipped slightly, in the shape of Dean's ass. A coolness in the shape of a hand was on his cheek.  
Cas smiled and leaned into it, taking solace in Dean's presence. "I love you, Dean," he whispered. He remembered what had happened last time he said those words, and it scared the hell out of him to say them again.  
He could feel something, like a finger, tracing something on his arm. It hit Cas, like a truck, that Dean was writing the words 'I love you too, Cas'. He stood and went to the closet, grabbing the notebook and opening it to the first page. He grabbed a pen from the shelf and went back to the bed. "Could you try to write for me, baby?" he asked quietly.  
The pen levitated in the air, causing Cas to smile. The pages flipped to a clean one. The pen began to write. 'Don't be sad, baby.'  
Cas wiped his eyes, shaking his head. "I've just missed you so much, and if it weren't for-"  
'Don't say that. It was my time. I saw it, Cas, up in Heaven.'  
Cas's mouth was open, and he looked over to where the imprint on the bed was. "What did you see?"  
'This was what was supposed to happen. There's a plan for us, and it's beautiful, Cas. We're gonna have our own personal Heaven when you join me, and til then I'm gonna watch over you.'  
Cas felt a comfort he hadn't since the accident, and a smile spread on his face. He leaned forward, kissing the cold spot that was Dean, and he felt Dean kiss back. "I can't wait for that day, Dean," he whispered. "But it's nice to know you'll take care of me until then."  
'Get sleep, baby, I'll watch over you.'  
Cas nodded tiredly, and flicked to the first page of the notebook to see it was Dean's journal. "Okay. I love you," he finally said.  
This time, he could almost swear he heard Dean's voice say 'I love you too.'  
Castiel Novak got the first night of actual sleep in months, knowing that his lover was there with him. He would read the journal in the morning, but until then he'd lay with Dean again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on this site, and feedback would be much appreciated. Thanks for reading!


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